The Devil is in the Details: On Hell and other Doctrines for a Future Methodist Church
“Pandemonium” by John Martin, 1841
For many, the word “hell” is simply a word used to convey strong emotions or dispositions toward a variety of phenomena, ranging from states of affairs to other people, religious rules, and societal norms. For example, when the late pro football Hall of Fame coach Vince Lombardi famously yelled at his players, “What the hell is going on out here?” he was simply expressing exasperation over his team’s lousy play. Other coaches, in an attempt to stir up hostility toward an opponent in a pre-game locker room speech, might say something like, “Go out there and give ‘em hell!”
A more interesting use of the word “hell” occurs when people use the term to express open defiance toward moral norms. For instance, in the 1970s, the Australian rock band AC/DC scored a monster hit with their anthem “Highway to Hell,” a song that declared the band members’ and their fist-pumping fans’ resolve to live as they pleased. This use of the word “hell” is interesting because it retains a vestige of the term’s meaning and use in Christian theology, namely, the sense that Hell is a location or destination toward which one can travel, say, on a highway. A slightly different vestige of meaning is retained in the phrase, “Go to Hell,” which people use to reject someone in the strongest possible terms.
Notwithstanding these vestiges of the term’s meaning and use in Christian theology, namely, as a location or destination and as a symbol of rejection, I am dubious that people who use the word ‘hell’ in these ways take such things very seriously. More specifically, I seriously doubt that the fans of AC/DC are testifying that they believe in a place of eternal torment and punishment and that they want to get there as quickly as possible (a highway is presumably faster than a dirt road). Similarly, I doubt that people who tell others to “Go to Hell,” have spent much time thinking about the horrifying possibility of being rejected by almighty God. In other words, the vestiges are accidental; they are not purposive or intentional.
What about us Christians? Hopefully, few of us would use the word “hell” in the ways described above. But how many of us take seriously the concept of Hell as a place to which Jesus Christ, as sovereign judge, sends the unrepentant to suffer eternal punishment for their sins? Beyond our personal convictions, how many of us believe that belief in Hell and eternal punishment are essential to the Christian faith? Even more pointedly, how many of us think that confessing belief in Hell and eternal punishment should be a pre-requisite for baptism and confirmation?
In recent years, the topics of Hell and eternal punishment have become flashpoints for debate among Christians. This is due largely to the publication of two books, one popular and one scholarly. On the popular front, (then) evangelical megachurch pastor Rob Bell published a book called Love Wins: A Book about Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person who Ever Lived (HarperOne, 2011). Reactions to Bell’s book, which seemed to espouse universalism (the view that all people will be saved and therefore no one will be in Hell), ranged from outrage to intrigue. Many evangelicals were quick to condemn Bell, most notably the Reformed theologian John Piper, who tweeted, “Farewell, Rob Bell” (Feb. 26, 2011). Apparently, for Piper, right belief about Hell and eternal punishment is essential to being an evangelical, if not a Christian.
More recently, the Eastern Orthodox theologian David Bentley Hart made similar waves when he published a scholarly work called That All Shall Be Saved: Heaven, Hell, and Universal Salvation (Yale University Press, 2019). Broadly, Hart’s contention is that universalism is a persistent feature in the Christian East, whereas as eternal punishment and Hell figure more prominently in Roman Catholic and Protestant Christianity. Hart’s work, like Bell’s before it, has evoked numerous strong responses, including a rather damaging review that accuses Hart of deliberately distorting the historical record where the teachings of the early church fathers are concerned. Hart’s work sent scholars scurrying to the sources, igniting debates over just how many of our ancestors in the faith were either open to or affirming of universalism.
Not surprisingly, given the furor over these two works, I recently found myself in the midst of a fairly contentious debate over Hell and eternal punishment. The setting was an upper-level seminary class. The debate started when one of my students asked a question about the early church’s teaching on Jesus’ “descent into Hell.” What does that mean, she asked? And why would Jesus do that? These questions quickly gave way to other questions, most notably, is Hell a real place? If so, is it populated? Will a merciful and loving God really sentence some people to eternal torment?
My students were divided over most of these questions. Some were emphatic that Hell was a real place and that unrepentant sinners really would suffer there for eternity. Others were more modest. They were reticent to abandon what they took to be a traditional Christian doctrine, but they expressed hope that God might show mercy to everyone. A third group, while not as emphatic as the first, was clearly inclined toward universalism.
As the discussion grew more heated, I gently asked a question about the status of the church’s teaching about Hell and eternal damnation. Were they sure that Hell had as secure a footing as say, the doctrine of the Trinity? Met with a few puzzled looks, I noted that neither the Apostles’ nor the Nicene Creed had much to say on these matters. This was especially interesting, I suggested, in the case of the Apostles’ Creed, insofar as this is the Creed widely used in connection with baptism. Does the absence of any detailed doctrine of Hell and eternal punishment suggest that the early church did not deem such things essential to confess for entry into the body of Christ?
As most of the students in my class were United Methodists, I went on to make a few observations about Hell and eternal punishment, most notably that our present doctrinal standards have very little to say. Yes, the Confession of Faith speaks of “eternal condemnation,” but it doesn’t go on to say precisely what that entails. Eternal condemnation, I noted, could conceivably take the form of annihilation rather than ongoing torment. After all, I continued, it’s hard to conceive of a greater condemnation than annihilation, which is to say, a divine judgment that a person doesn’t deserve to go on existing – even in Hell.
When we turn to the Articles of Religion, things get even more interesting. It is well-known that our present articles are an abridgement (by John Wesley) of the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England. Of special interest here is the fact that Wesley eliminated the article requiring subscription to the Apostles’, Nicene, and Athanasian creeds. While the former two creeds have little to say about Hell and eternal punishment, the Athanasian Creed declares,
At his coming all people will rise bodily
And give an accounting of their own deeds.
Those who have done good will enter eternal life
And those who have done evil will enter eternal fire.
It is highly doubtful that Wesley eliminated the article requiring subscription to the three classical creeds because he didn’t agree with these lines in the Athanasian Creed. At the same time, it is rather interesting to note that, in an article on the sacraments that he chose to retain, he changed the word “damnation” to “condemnation” (in the clause having to do with partaking of the sacraments unworthily). Like the Confession of Faith, the article doesn’t go on to specify in any detail what it means by condemnation.
The truth of the matter is that, while many Christians today have very strong convictions about Hell and eternal punishment, most major Christian creeds and other confessional statements that are used either a) as a confessional requirement for baptism and/or confirmation, or b) as doctrinal standards on the basis of which clergy can be brought up on heresy charges, are quite modest about these matters. They consistently and clearly affirm belief in a final judgment, but they stop short of prescribing a detailed doctrine of Hell and eternal punishment. The same holds for many other doctrines, including the atonement. The majority of the classical Christian creeds and confessions affirm that Christ died for our sins, but most stop short of providing any detailed account of how Christ atones for sin. They do not, for instance, prescribe a particular theory or model such as penal substitution or Christus Victor. In both areas, namely, Christ’s atonement and Christ’s judgment, the church has opted to leave some things open for ongoing reflection, prayer, and conversation with the whole of Scripture.
I bring all of this up in order to raise what to my mind is a very important question, especially for “traditionalist” United Methodists preparing for the possible launch of a new denomination. Has the church, in its many manifestations across space and time, been wise to practice modesty in what it requires of people for baptism and/or confirmation, as well as in what it includes in its doctrinal standards? Has it been wise to require more detail or nuance in some areas of doctrine, while remaining content with broader commitments in other areas?
My own view is that the early church was indeed wise in its decision to keep the list of truly essential beliefs to a minimum, especially when it comes to materials related to baptism and formation in the faith (the Apostles’ Creed is shorter than the Nicene Creed for good reason!). Wesley himself appears to be of a similar mind. When it came time to launch a new church in America, he did not add material to the Articles of Religion. Rather, he reduced the number of essential doctrines from thirty-nine down to twenty-four. If anything, I think a case could be made that he should have kept going. For example, I think he should have eliminated the explicitly anti-Catholic material. I say this not because I believe in purgatory, the seven sacraments, or transubstantiation (all explicitly prohibited in the Church of England’s Articles of Religion, reflecting its origins in the English Reformation), but rather because I don’t think confession of disbelief in such things should be regarded as essential to Christianity, let alone salvation.
My greatest hope when it comes to doctrine and doctrinal standards for a future Methodist church is that we would establish a standing Faith and Order committee to be charged with ongoing reflection, prayer, and conversation with the whole of Scripture. Over time, a standing Faith and Order committee could take up all sorts of questions related to doctrinal development and refinement, including the following: What beliefs are essential to confess for baptism and confirmation? What beliefs are so important that we would be willing to conduct heresy trials for those who deny them or who teach and preach in opposition to them? Should the former list be identical to the latter? Or should the list of doctrines related to baptism and confirmation be shorter and perhaps less nuanced than the list of doctrines to which clergy are held accountable for their teaching and preaching? Should we consider changes to our present Articles of Religion or Confession of Faith? Should we adopt the Nicene or Apostles’ Creed as a standard of doctrine? What about the Athanasian Creed? Or what about Wesley’s sermons? Do they really belong on the same level with, say, the Creeds? Speaking of which, should we assign different functions to different doctrinal materials or entertain different levels of doctrine (in the Catholic Church, for example, not every doctrine rises to the level of Dogma)? Also, what is a standard, anyway? Are there different kinds of standards? For example, is there a difference between a standard of truth and a standard of identity? These are all highly complex matters, and we should resist the urge to overcommit ourselves right out of the gate, say, with a “restrictive rule” that prevents the work of ongoing reflection and doctrinal refinement in the service of the church’s mission. The Devil, as they say, is in the details.
Dr. Jason Vickers is Professor of Theology at Asbury Theological Seminary.